By The Insanities
~*~*~*~
Wow, who the hell is that?~*~*~*~
"Whoa!" Mithborien said, as she stood in awe at the main golden dome of the restaurant.
"I'll say," Jynethe agreed as she came to stand next to Mithborien.
Finarfëwen crashed into the both of them. Hey, Aldebaran liqueur and a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster don't exactly make the best combination. "Holy hell!"
Mithborien dragged Finarfëwen to her feet, or somewhere in the vicinity of them and told her, "I know."
"I'll say," Jynethe said again.
What captivated the Insanities attention, which to be honest isn't all that hard, just swing something shiny in front of them and they'll go for it. Which would explain why they couldn't take their eyes off the vista before them.
Glitter covered every surface, which was an achievement because just about everything else was coated with jewels, precious sea shells from Santraginus, gold leaf, mosaic tiles, lizard skins and a million unidentified embellishments and decorations. Glass glittered, gold gleamed and Jynethe had to drag Finarfëwen back again before she chased after something that shone with silver.
Swaying palms, hissing fountains and grotesque statuary littered the floor before them, where thousands of tables, it seemed, were fanned out in a large circle around a central stage where a small band was playing some light music. Made of marble, rich ultra-mahogany, platinum or a dozen other unknown materials each of the tables seated various parties of exotic looking creatures, either laughing among themselves or perusing the menus.
"See," Mithborien said breathlessly. "People dress up here."
"No shit," Finarfëwen said.
"If you will follow me," the waiter said as he wound his way through the crowd of tables.
Jynethe, Finarfëwen and Mithborien followed a bit more slowly, taking in the sight of everything around them with some difficulty. It was quite big.
"When I read about this, I never imagined it would be like this," Mithborien murmured.
"Where did you read about this?" Jynethe asked curiously.
"The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy."
"Oh."
Finally they reached their table and sat down while the waiter scurried off to get them menus.
"Look at all these people," Finarfëwen commented. "How did they all get here? How did they even know there was a here to get to? I mean, we had the Tardis after all."
"It's just my guess," Mithborien said. "But probably from word of mouth. People come here, see what will happen and tell their friends. As for actually getting here, who cares?"
Meanwhile Jynethe was looking intently around the room but had now focused on one specific thing.
"Who? What is that?" she asked pointing to a creature with dark green rubbery skin and a high domed nose above a piggy forehead.
"Uh, a Vogon," Mithborien said, pushing her hand away, "and, if I were you, I wouldn't point. You really don't want him to start reciting poetry now."
"Poetry? What?"
"Well everyone knows Vogon poetry is one of the worst in the universe, third worse actually. The second worst is from the Azgoths of Kria. After a reciting of some of their poetry some of the audience died of internal haemorrhaging or maybe they chewed their legs off. Can't remember which."
"Sounds bad."
"Yeah. Luckily the guy who was reciting the poetry, well his own major intestine jumped up his neck and I think… throttled his own brain. Yeah, that's it."
"Nasty."
"Yeah, their poetry is."
"So whose the worst?"
"What?"
"You said these Askoss people…"
"Azgoths."
"Whatever, where the second worst. So whose the worst?"
"Oh, I dunno. Forget, someone in Essex, England. Forget the name."
Finarfëwen was looking at Mithborien in astonishment. "How the hell do you know all that?"
"Oh, I read it in-"
"Lemme guess," Jynethe interrupted. "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy."
Mithborien nodded.
"I gotta read that some day."
"You probably already have," Mithborien said.
"What? How can I already have read it," Jynethe exclaimed. "I'm damn sure I haven't."
"Here's the thing," Mithborien explained. "The tenses get screwed up a lot here. So theoretically at this point in time you probably have read it, but not yet."
She was then confronted with two blank looks.
Mithborien groaned and said, "Read Time Traveler's Handbook of 1001 Tense Formations. It'll explain everything."
"Why would we want to do that?" Finarfëwen asked.
Mithborien shrugged. "Don't ask me, you probably already have."
Finarfëwen blinked and turned to Jynethe. "I'm confuzzled."
Luckily Jynethe was spared from having to answer… or will be spared… or… oh, screw it, who gives a frell… by the waiter returning with their menus.
"What is all this stuff?" Finarfëwen asked as she scanned the list of meals. "I've never even heard of this food."
"Same here," Jynethe said. "What about you, Mithborien?"
She didn't answer at first but turned her menus upside down, looked at it for a few moments, turned it the right way up again. "Nope, still doesn't make sense."
"Right," Finarfëwen said. "Weren't you the one who said you wanted to come here for a decent meal?"
"Probably, but I never said decent for who."
Finarfëwen's sigh was drowned out by the approach of the waiter again. "Have the ladies decided what they would like to order yet?"
All three exchanged blank looks.
"Uh, we'll each have the… uh, daily special," Jynethe finally responded.
"Ahh, excellent choice. The Hemallect's are just spawning." He then collected their menus and scurried away.
"Did he just say spawning?" Finarfëwen asked.
"Yep," replied Mithborien.
"What did you do," Finarfëwen screamed at Jynethe, who was saved from being strangled by the appearance of a tall brilliantly coloured figure on stage. A spotlight illuminated him as he grabbed the microphone with a long fingered hand and waited for the applause to die down. He turned to the audience and a smiled a smile than seemed to stretch beyond his long thin face.
"Thank you, ladies and gentleman!" he cried with twinkling eyes. "Thank you very, very much. My guests, the Universe as we know it has been in existence for over one hundred and seventy thousand million billion years and will be ending in little over half an hour. So, welcome one and all, or two and all, depends on who you're with, to Milliways, the Restaurant at the end of the Universe!"
Another round of applause washed over him, which he silenced with a deft gesture.
"I am Max Quordlepleen, your host for tonight and I will be with you right through this final historical occasion, the End of History itself."
"Thank god for that," muttered Finarfëwen.
"It's OmiGod," corrected Mithborien.
The light in the restaurant dimmed down, and the candles on every table ignited themselves.
"Whoa," murmured Jynethe.
"I gotta learn how to do that," said Finarfëwen, agreeing with Jynethe's 'whoa'.
"So, ladies and gentlemen," Max breathed, "the candles are lit, the band plays softly, and as the force-shielded dome above us fades into transparency, revealing a dark and sullen sky hung heavy with the ancient light of lived swollen stars, I can see we're all in for a fabulous evening's apocalypse."
The band's music faded away as the three Insanities looked up in shock. A monstrous grisly light poured hideously down upon them, full of boiling, pestilential luminance that would have disfigured hell itself.
The Universe was coming to an end.
"This is wic-ked," said Mithborien in the silence of the restaurant.
"For those of you who ever hoped to see the light at the end or the tunnel," Max continued softly, "this is it."
The band struck up again with a jaunty little tune that broke the monotony of the continuing silence.
"Thank you ladies and gentlemen," cried Max. "I'll be back with you again in just a moment, and meanwhile I leave you in the very capable hands of Mr Reg Nullify and his Cataclysmic Combo. Take it away, Reg!"